


Bad fox! Sly fox!

by DLManoir



Series: Arabian Thieves [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Fingering, Antropormorphs, Biting, Kemonomimi, M/M, Punishment, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:28:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25395394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DLManoir/pseuds/DLManoir
Summary: With Sokari gone on a job, and Akeem tired of kicking sand and napping away the heat of the day, finding something to occupy an otherwise jittery mind might prove a much harder task. Especially when this one decides to occupy himself with something that doesn't necessarily was his attention.Akeem isn't new to punishment, but this time might just break him.
Relationships: Fakhir/Akeem Althaelab, Feechi/Akeem Althaelab (implied), Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Series: Arabian Thieves [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1839292
Kudos: 3





	Bad fox! Sly fox!

**Author's Note:**

> If I've missed out on any tags you think should be up there, please let me know and I'll be more than happy to change it accordingly. Otherwise, I hope you have fun reading this, as I had fun writing it.

“Fakhir!”

Another solid  _ CRACK! _ sounded out, followed by a squeal. Fakhir laid blow and blow, smacking Akeem’s rear with a precise hand, with such inhibited savagery his eyes burned with tears. Every strike on his raw, heated flesh had him squirming, kicking, and jerking to flee the next. And with every attempt to cover his ass, every outburst, or well of rebellion in his spirits, Fakhir redoubled.

“Stop it!” Akeem cried, but Fakhir wasn’t moved in the slightest by his pleas.

He deserved this punishment; his impudence had proven too much today, and some discipline was in order. Unfortunately for him, a coyote could bite down a lot harder than some little fennec fox.

“Fakhir—urk!”

The coyote’s free hand squeezed his throat before he could say anymore. It wasn’t hard enough to choke Akeem, or silence him actually, but the claws that dug into his skin proved quite persuasive in shutting him up. The message was clear: if he begged, the consequences would be dire.

Five vicious lashes of Fakhir’s hand descended over his buttocks in quick succession. They were particularly painful, and Akeem flailed despite the grip that tightened around his throat when he struggled.

When a sixth cruel blow finally came, it pried more than just a little cry from Akeem. His pain threshold was fairly high, but this last blow had done it for him. It had shattered something inside that prompted the fennec fox to lash out with a bestial yap. He beat his tail before tucking it between his legs, twisted his body until Fakhir had no other choice but to relinquish the grip of his neck, and swiped his claws at the coyote’s face.

Akeem took this opportunity to slip from his position over Fakhir’s knees. He leapt out of reach of the coyote, making a break for the door, only to find himself collapsing when a paralyzing shock shot up his spine and the air was stolen from his lungs.

He hadn’t been fast enough, it seemed, as Fakhir had caught him by the base of his tail.

“You’re really set on pissing me off today, aren’t you?” the coyote growled, voice full of contempt. He was a menacing sight with those furious ruby eyes of his, and it set off Akeem’s fight or flight instincts.

_ Fuck! I messed up bad, _ Akeem thought.

Fakhir’s hand fell over the back of his neck, heavy and unforgiving as it grabbed hold of the blond locks at the nape, and hoisted him up by the scruff. His own hands reached behind his head, and he winced as a new trickle of tears fell from his lower lashline.

Akeem was pulled over Fakhir’s lap again. A calloused hand petted over his rump which throbbed with a vivid fire still. His ass felt impossibly large. His chest tightened, and his throat almost closed up. He didn’t want to be here, on those knees, feeling the feigned tenderness of their gang’s leader caressing his beaten ass. However daunting laying here was, though, it wasn’t until the hand that spanked him moved away from his rump that his stomach sank with trepidation.

It started. Savage. Harsh. Violent. But Akeem had to wait it out, take it all, but most importantly, he had to stay still. If he fought back, it’d only be worse.

“When you come into my tent—“  _ Smack! _

Fakhir spoke through gritted teeth. Half-growls, half-hisses. His voice gruff and strained. And each little bit was punctuated with a slap.

“And I tell you to leave—“  _ Smack! _

“Because I’m busy—“  _ Smack! _

Fakhir’s words tightened. He swung his hand with as much force as he could muster. The slaps came faster and resonated louder. And Akeem’s resolve threatened to dissolve with every spanking thereafter.

“You—“  _ Smack! _

“Fucking—“  _ Smack! _

“Leave!”  _ Smack! _

The last slap of Fakhir’s hand broke Akeem into a sob. His whole body had tensed up, and his hands flexibly reached for his ass, covering it as he hung his head and bit his lip. He stifled a moan, but his shoulders still jerked with his hitching breath. It took every little bit of force he had left to hold his voice back, to keep it from breaking.

“I-I get it! Stop! Please! Please… I-I’m sorry…”

It did stop then.

Everything stopped.

Time seemed to stand still. The air became stagnant, and the tent’s atmosphere weighed heavily on both Akeem and Fakhir. A fire pulsated in Fakhir’s chest, and it seemed it was the only thing Akeem could hear.

The only thing aside from his clattering teeth and Fakhir’s unsteady panting, of course.

Akeem’s moment of reprieve was short, however, as the hand that had spanked him returned to lay flat, still on his ass. He flinched hard, his spine straightening out, and he grasped at the hand to keep it from lifting.

“No! Please! No more!” He was desperate, pleading even as Fakhir called for him to be quiet. He kept blabbering as panic set in. “Please! I’m sorry! I swear! I won’t do it again!”

He wasn’t silenced until the coyote’s hand broke free of his grip to yank his head back instead.

“I’m not your playmate, Akeem,” Fakhir said in an embittered whisper. “I won’t have you running around wild just because your brother ain’t here to keep you company. I don’t have time for you bullshit. Do you get that?”

“Yes! Yes! Okay, okay! I’m sorry!” Akeem answered through gritted teeth.

His hair was released, but he wasn’t yet free to rise from his position. Fakhir’s hand returned to his ass, forcing him to present himself bare, hands falling and tail out of the way, and vulnerable for the coyote to pet him over. His pleas of ‘Please’ and ‘No more’ were quickly hushed. Akeem screwed his eyes shut as he expected another blitz of spankings to come.

“Put your hands behind your neck, Akeem,” Fakhir said imposingly.

Akeem couldn’t hear the slightest hint of compassion or softness in the coyote’s voice. Fakhir was only cold. Detached. Governing. He obeyed, lacing his fingers, and rested his shaky hands over the back of his nape.

“Keep them there. I don’t want a word out of you.”

Akeem clenched his jaws until his teeth hurt, his lips pressed into a tight line. Fakhir’s voice was a deep growl that rose from the chest and told the fennec fox it would be in his best interest to obey. Akeem dug his claws into the back of his hands, squeezed his thighs together, and bit his tongue. He braced himself.

“Don’t you dare move,” Fakhir said in a low whisper.

The slap he expected never came, however.

Instead, the coyote pressed two fingers at his rim, the constant pressure insisting on penetrating him. It was done slowly, but without lubricant to ease the digits into him. Fakhir pried him open to the knuckle where the coyote decided to pause, allowing Akeem a moment to catch his breath.

When the fingers first moved, they did so slowly, scissoring on the way out, making sure he was stretched. Roughened finger pads laid exploring touches on his internal walls. They struck certain spots that made Akeem shake and whimper.

Fakhir’s other hand came to his chin, forcing him to keep his head up while he was being stretched. Like this, he couldn’t hide the way his breath sped up, the pattern becoming uneven, as his rim started to loosen.

It didn’t take long for Akeem’s ass to start swallowing the digits. His hips bucked onto them to feel them deeper. Akeem was a slut. His body was always ready to be taken, to be devoured, and to devour. It wasn’t a secret that his appetite was insatiable. If half the beastmen in their gang hadn’t had a good at his ass or mouth, then they’d definitely caught him getting railed in all of his naked glory.

_ “Uuuuuuuuhhh…” _ All it took for his mouth to go lax was the mere graze of Fakhir’s fingers over a sweet bundle of nerves. Another brush to his prostate pulled another whine from him.

Akeem chased after the rubbing inside, twisting and shaking his hips, in search of the spark that had his mind whitening out.

_ “Mmmhm… T-there—aaaahhh! Fakhir! Uuuuhhn—kuh!!” _ A slap under his chin clamped his mouth shut. His teeth had clattered together hard, making the sound resonate in his skull, as he was rudely reminded that he wasn’t allowed to talk.

“I told you to shut up,” Fakhir snapped at him.

Akeem swallowed the painful ball forming in his throat. His ears fell back in submission, and his tail shook with the effort it took to keep it from folding down over his rump.

The fingers then drove into his at a brutal pace Akeem had yet to grow accustomed to. It was dry, and cruel when they pushed into him, and it stung when they pulled out. And yet, for all the discomfort he felt, for every breath hammered out of him, and every gasp lighting a fire in his lungs, the coyote’s digits never missed their mark. Every drag over his prostate had Akeem’s eyes rolling, and his toes curling. It was fast, much too hard, and the pressure that slowly built in his loins was now doubling over.

_ “Uuuuuuuuuhhhn… Too f-fast… Uuuuhuuhhh! Uhn! Fakhir! Mmmh!” _ Akeem couldn’t keep quiet as Fakhir ordered him to.

He tried to evade the fingering by leaning his hips forward, but then the silken fabric of Fakhir’s trousers dragged against his cock. He hadn’t taken notice of just how hard he was until he felt the precum-soaked fabric cling to the head of his sex. Every pump of the coyote’s fingers didn’t only force groans and moans out of his mouth, but also pearl after pearl of translucent liquid. His torment truly began when fabric had become so drenched in his juices that it enveloped his glan and shaft.

Akeem bounced between the two intense sensations. His insides quivered and he squirmed for even a semblance of reprieve. Each time, Fakhir disallowed it as he was still too agitated.

Fakhir’s fingers tightened around Akeem’s throat only enough to set a sense of urgency in the fennec fox’s heart. Sharp claws light scratched the skin to really drive the effect in. Akeem’s body convulsed, muscles contracting of their own accords, and a long, raspy and somewhat choked, moan left him.

He came.

His orgasm crashed into him, his nerves fried with an explosion of pleasure-pain. One rope of come after the other, each as painful as the last, spurted from his cock to stick to Fakhir’s pants.

Fakhir edged him, fingering him with renewed intensity through his orgasm and afterglow, and still when Akeem’s whimpers turned to pained cries. His whole body was shot with oversensitivity, but the coyote wouldn’t let him rest just yet.

Akeem could hear Fakhir’s voice in his head.  _ Oh, no. You’re gonna stay like this until you learn your fucking lesson, kit. _

In fact, he was kept like this, held over the coyote’s lap to be thoroughly fingered, until a droplet of sweat trickled from Fakhir’s chin, and onto Akeem’s back. The fingers went immobile inside of his ass, and his whole body shivered. His insides clamped down on the digits as if to prevent them from moving anymore.

Finally, Akeem felt he could breathe. “I’m sorry… Fakhir, I’m sorry… Please stop.”

The coyote bared his teeth at the breathy pleas. Was there not teaching him to shut up? Fakhir leaned forward and bit down hard on Akeem’s shoulder. Canines broke the skin and sank deep into the flesh. Receiving such a bite made Akeem wince, but not only from the pain of his affliction.

_ He was shamed. _

The mark identified him as an offender. Anyone who’d see the imprint of their leader’s bite would know that he’d gone and roused the coyote’s displeasure, and they would have to treat him accordingly.

Oh, he could try to hide it all he wanted, but Akeem wouldn’t forget this moment any time soon.

Once the mark was implanted deep into Akeem’s shoulder, he was thrown to the ground, on his hands and knees. Fakhir rose up with a huff, moving to the table where maps and scrolls and parchments were scattered—he’d been busy studying a newly acquired scroll when Akeem had disturbed him.

A dirty rag sat among the articles. He only had to dig it out from the pile to wipe off the spunk on his trousers.

“So you kept your hands behind your neck as I told you to,” Fakhir started. His voice was even as he spoke, but something alarming clung to it regardless of the calmness in his tone. “But then you not only made a racket when I told you to shut up, you came all over my pants like some filthy mongrel.”

Akeem stayed low to the ground where he’d landed, his ears pushed back and his eyes on the coyote’s feet. He manipulated his own trousers bundled at his ankles up over his rump without getting up.

“Should I punish you all over again for that, or have you had enough?” Fakhir asked.

Akeem didn’t answer. He knew that silence would be the only acceptable answer here. However, he did give a slight nod of his head, hardly noticeable. This seemed to qualm the coyote.

“That’s what I thought,” Fakhir grunted through his nose.

The come-soiled rag was then thrown at Akeem, making him flinch.

“Get out,” the coyote growled, “And take that thing to get washed.”

Akeem’s legs reacted before he could process the command himself. He swiped the rag, which had been thrown in front of him, and bolted for the tent’s opening flap. He stopped himself before he could leave, however— _ Akeem was stupid, really _ —and turned to scowl at Fakhir, his ears erect.

Fakhir’s eyes met his as they narrowed threateningly.

“You got sand in your ears or are you actually looking for a fight?”

Whatever blaze had struck Akeem just then quickly vanished, along with the audacity in his eyes. His ears went flat along the sides of his head again. He couldn’t be so disillusioned as to believe he’d win a fight against the coyote. Besides, it wasn’t the sort of fight he wanted to engage in.

_ It’s not worth it, _ Akeem thought bitterly.  _ Not with Fakhir… _

He would take his leave for now.

Immediately upon lifting the flap to the tent’s entrance, the sun stung Akeem’s eyes. The air was impossibly hot which, in turn, made it quite hard to breathe. He stomped through the encampment, seething, the heat no help to his already-boiling blood until he came across the tub of dirty water destined to their laundry. He hesitated upon seeing Kemnebi there already but tossed the rag into the bucket of dirty clothes she was washing.

The splash it caused caught her in the face as she was elbow deep in the tub full of water. She lifted her head, eyes full of affront, in protest.

"Hey!”

“Can you wash this too, please? Thanks.” Akeem said dryly.

He was much too curt to her liking, and the way he left her no room to accept or refuse wounded her greatly. She hissed at him before he could escape.

“I am not your mother! You’re a grown man, Akeem. You can do your own laundry.”

Akeem frowned. “But you’re already doing some!”

“There’s more than one bucket!” she snapped back without missing a beat. “Point is, I don’t have to do anything for you. Especially if you’re just gonna be throwing shit around like I’m some maid ready to pick up after you. Have you got no respect?”

_ Respect, _ Akeem scoffed, his shoulders tensing and teeth grinding against each other. Kemnebi glared at him and he returned her look. That is, until he averted his eyes.

Muddy water dripped down her cheeks, and that was  _ his _ fault.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to throw it like that.”

“Well,” Kemnebi huffed, shaking the water off her hands as she sat back. “You still did.”

“I know… I’m sorry.”

He avoided looking at her directly in the eyes. He had to admit she was right. She grumbled some and fished the rag from the water. Akeem’s heart pinched as he thought she might throw it back at him, but she simply wrung it before dragging it over the board, with the rest of the laundry.

“Just this once. You better start minding your manners around me, though! Don’t forget I’m the one who feeds you!” she said, scolding lightly.

Akeem smiled humbly. “Yes, of course. Sorry, Kemnebi. Thank you.”

“Yeah… Whatever. What’s got you so riled up anyways?”

Akeem’s mouth opened, and he’d almost answered her question, but he decided against it. His buttocks still stung, and the pain in his shoulder had recently settled to a mere but annoying numb throbbing. He didn’t want to get into it. Not yet, at least. So Akeem shook his head instead, giving her a dismissive smile.

“It’s nothing. I think I’m just gonna go nap the heat off.”

“Yeah?” Kemnebi narrowed her eyes suspiciously but didn’t say anything more. “If you say so. Just make sure you’re up for supper, or you won’t get anything to eat.”

“Will do. Thanks.”

By the sound of it, he suspected she’d entertain the thought of not saving him a plate, but Akeem knew she wouldn’t let him go hungry. Still, he’d gotten into enough trouble already. He nodded and smiled, before waving at her as he turned away.

Akeem hardly managed a handful of steps when he heard Kemnebi gasping. She called for him to stop, her voice so impossibly shrill it might attract the attention of others. He thought he could start running. In this heat, a fennec fox would certainly have a good enough chance at outrunning a black panther, but instead, he slowed until he came to a complete halt.

His ears pushed back and his tail curled between his legs. His stomach churned with the realization of what had caught her attention, and he quite frankly didn’t want to talk about it.  _ Damn it! _

Large ears picked up the sound of shuffling sand as Kemnebi rushed to him. Her fingers instantly prodded at the impression of Fakhir’s bite. No matter how gentle the touch, Akeem winced and jerked, and she in turn hissed empathetically.

“Oh, Akeem.” Her voice was tinged with both worry and disappointment, and that truly tugged at his heart. His shame seemed to intensify. “You went and got yourself in trouble again…”

Why was it that her nurturing nature only amplified his humiliation?

“Come with me,” she said, pulling on his arm. “We’ll get it cleaned and bandaged up.”

Akeem flinched out of her grasp. “No, it’s fine, really!” He took three steps away from here, the inner edges of his brows pulling up while a meek smile tugged at his lips. “I’m fine, Kemnebi.”

“No, you’re not. You’re bleeding!”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I know, but it’ll be fine. I’ve had worse,” he tried his best laid-back tone, but Kemnebi wasn’t buying it. The panther could prove quite intuitive.

Fakhir’s booming voice startled them, however.

“Kemnebi!!”

The coyote was watching them from his tent, arms crossed over his chest with a cruelly stern look of disapproval on his face. Akeem tensed up, his back becoming rigid and the crown of fur around his neck scruffed up. He glowered right back at Fakhir knowing full well the coyote wouldn’t chase him out in this heat.

In any case, Fakhir wasn’t watching to make sure he didn’t cause any trouble. No. He didn’t want Akeem becoming the subject of another’s condolences.

“He stays the way he is!” the coyote barked.

Akeem showed his teeth. He allowed the low rumble in his chest to rise up as he believed Fakhir wouldn’t be able to hear his growl from this far. Still, it was careful, hardly loud enough for Kemnebi to hear.  _ Jerk mutt… _

“Oh, go chase your tail, you inbred dog!” the panther hissed.

“Don’t you dare hide that mark, Kemnebi!” Fakhir yelled right back.

“Come out here and make me, dog!” She shooed him with a hand gesture.

“Kemnebi!”

The black fur of her tail puffed up while the tip of it twitched frantically. Her eyes were a brilliant hazel, and her pupils dilated with fury despite the bright sun beating down on them. She stood her ground, her stance defensive and her feet planted firmly in the sand, just as Fakhir stood his with bared canines, ears pointed high, and the fur on his tail fluffed up to make it look twice as big. They stared at each other until Fakhir, still seemingly agitated, huffed and snorted, and returned to his tent.

Kemnebi scoffed victoriously before shifting her attention back to Akeem and warned him, “Whatever you did, you’d be wise to hold off from starting again. I don’t know what you did, but you really pissed him off.”

“Yeah, well…” Akeem mumbled, his nerves still a little frazzled, “He can suck it.”

She clicked her tongue at that. Her head shook disapprovingly, and her shoulder drooped. She exhaled through her nose, loud and exasperated, before speaking.

“Akeem… If I were you, I’d make myself scarce until that mark fades. At least a little.”

“Yeah.”

That actually didn’t sound like a bad idea. They both knew what this mark on his shoulder meant, and his ass was still too sensitive from the beating. The mere gloss of his pants was like an offending chafe over the raw, heated flesh of his buttocks. If he was to go running through the encampment like this, and someone caught sight of the mark…

No. Better not think about it.

The sooner he returned to his tent, the sooner he’d be free to air his ass out and take care of it.  _ Did we use up the last of the olive oil? Maybe I should use aloe instead… _

Kemnebi squeezed the back of his neck, a comforting gesture that snapped him out of his thoughts.

“A nap’ll do you good,” she said, nudging her head in the direction of his tent. Akeem couldn’t agree more. He was exhausted. Mentally, of course, for he had more stamina than a whole herd of gazelles.

She sent him off, and he’d tried to put on a brave face for her, but he was still very much bothered. The mark over his shoulder was searing into him. He was visibly humiliated, disgraced. And Fakhir had imprinted him to smear him.

_ It’s all Fakhir’s fault, though! If he hadn’t sent Sokari off on a job, none of this would’ve happened! _

It was true. The coyote had ordered Akeem to stay behind while Sokari had been sent off with a small group to recover some rumored loot. There was nothing to keep Akeem busy at the encampment. He grew bored of kicking sand and baking under the sun. And Fakhir wouldn’t even entertain him anymore! Finding more jobs came first, evidently.

All of this because Akeem wanted to suck cock!

Fakhir should’ve been grovelling at his feet, thanking him, begging him. But no!

Akeem stopped among a grouping of empty tents—none of these were his—where he thought he might be alone. He tilted his head and peered at whatever he could see of the wound over his shoulder. He couldn’t see all of it, but he was undoubtedly bleeding. He felt the blood trickling down his back—or was he just sweating up a storm?

He reached for the wound with his hand, and immediately identified the wet feel of fresh blood. It didn’t seem to be a lot, but it was still enough to coat his fingers.

Seeing his fingers covered in his own lifeblood set off something in him. His stomach flipped and a bout of nauseousness came over him. Most importantly, though, his blood boiled with rage. He lapped one of his fingers clean; the flavour of blood, sweat, and dirt mangling into something sickeningly bitter; and wiped the rest on his pants. Akeem wasn’t going to retire for the day, after all. If his blood was to spill, he’d make sure every wasted drop was well worth the punishment.

_ But who? _ Akeem wanted someone big enough to pin him down while he fought back, maybe rough him up a little. Someone whom he could claw and bite at without worrying about hurting them. And he swore to the Gods that he would stand for anyone who didn’t sport a nice, thick cock.

Who could he possibly seduce? Who wouldn’t shy away from the mark on his shoulder?

Akeem palmed at his crotch. His dick was already stiffening. Even in this heat, and with the flaring sting of his ass, he couldn’t get his mind off of sex. He was incorrigible.  _ Fakhir can’t play with me every second of every minute, and that’s fine! _ Akeem thought.  _ I’ll just find myself someone who will. _ And he was looking right at his target.

_ Feechi _ , a quiet dingo beastman.

Feechi had joined their gang some two years ago. He was impossibly large, built like an ox, and yet he was a wallflower that went completely unnoticed. Akeem couldn’t even be sure they’d ever spoken before, although he did remember catching the dingo’s stare one night at a bonfire. He’d seen a hidden darkness in Feechi’s eyes and he wanted to see it again. No! He  _ would _ see it again.

The dingo was hauling a heavy-looking set of crates. Sweat dripped from his temples, beading off of his chin, and his shirt clung to his strong pectorals. The thin tuft of fur Akeem saw there was soaked with sweat.

Feechi reeked of hard work and exhaustion, and the smell that wafted off of him was simply… divine.

A true predator.

“Looking kinda tired there, big dog!” Akeem called out, startling the dingo.

Feechi didn’t say anything. Rather, he kept pulling on the netting and dragged his haul over the sand. So Akeem leaned the bulk of his weight on the crates, adding to the load to pull along. The dingo quickly turned to him and snarled, his chest swelling with aggressivity while the fur of his tail immediately fuzzed up. It gave him a grizzled look that Akeem was absolutely entranced with.

“Impressive canines,” he said with a coo. He wasn’t deterred by Feechi’s display in the slightest. “Betcha never got to sink ‘em in a sweet piece of ass before.”

Feechi’s brows pinched in confusion.

“What?”

“Aw, come on… Don’t play the dumb dog.”

That seemed to hit a nerve. The dingo’s face contorted and the snarl became a full-on growl. It was clear by the sharpness in those dark eyes that he was gravely insulted. That’s right, dingos weren’t dogs, and many of them found being compared to them a great offence. But he couldn’t do anything about it. Being the sly fox that he was, Akeem took full advantage of that. And he’d continue to do so. It was safer for Feechi to turn the other cheek and ignore any further advances.

“Oh! What a good doggy!” Akeem marvelled.

It earned him a mild reaction from the dingo, but nothing to really spur him to continue. He wasn’t giving up, though. Even the most calculative the beastman had their weak spots!

He pounced at Feechi, latching around his waist. “When was the last time you had any?”

“Wha!? Hey!” Feechi tried to shake him off. “Let go! What d’you think you’re doing!?”

“Come on, man! Just tell me when was the last time you had a good fuck!”

“That’s none of your business! Let go!”

Akeem’s hands found their way to the dingo’s crotch before this one could yank him off. He wasted no time in copping a feel of the—Akeem’s jaw dropped.

“It’s huge!”

The hand that came to the back of his neck squeezed his skin with so much force it sapped all of his strength. Feechi roughly tugged him by the back of the neck, making Akeem yowl as he was almost suspended in front of the dingo by the scruff of his neck. His toes hardly touched the ground. A pang of uncertainty and apprehension stabbed at Akeem’s heart. So he did what he always did when things became dangerous: he gave a half-chuckle, half-hiss.

“Y-you got everything I’ve been looking for, big boy,” Akeem said nervously.

Feechi’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “If you’re looking for trouble, you’re about to find it,” the dingo growled.

The noise sent a shiver up Akeem’s spine. He just had the worst of luck getting laid today! First Fakhir, and now this dingo? Akeem had thought Feechi would make for an easy target, a puppy he could lure in simply by lifting his tail and shaking his ass. Boy had he been wrong about that one…

“I’m not! I’m really not looking for trouble!” Akeem’s hands rose defensively. The aggression in the dingo’s eyes turned to annoyed curiosity.

“Then what do you want, kit?” Feechi asked, shaking the fennec fox.

“A big cock and a strong grip!” Akeem answered quickly. “I’m always on the hunt for a good dog that can—“

“I’m not a dog!” Feechi bared his teeth.

“Okay! Okay, sorry! Not a dog! I get it! I’m just looking for someone to pound my ass ‘till I can’t walk no more. You got the cock, and you definitely got the—hnngh!—grip…” Akeem struggled with the hand that held him up. When Feechi dropped him back to his own two feet, Akeem went straight to rubbing the nape of his neck. He hissed when his fingers dug through the fur and reached the now-sore skin.

“A-anyways… What d’you say? You down?”

“For?” the dingo flinched.

“To fuck!”

Feechi’s mouth gaped, and he looked almost stupid standing there with his mouth open, but nothing to say. The blood must’ve rushed to his head because a bright flush spread over the dark caramel tan of his skin. But maybe that wasn’t the only place his blood seemed to pool; the dingo’s pants were tenting, and Akeem smirked at that.  _ Exactly what I wanna see. _

“So, what d’you say, big boy?” he asked again. “You gonna let me have a taste of your dick, or what?”

Feechi hesitated.

“Foxes are sly,” he uttered, more for himself than for Akeem to hear. Akeem had heard it, though, and he knew then that he’d won.

“No, big boy. A bad fox is a sly fox, and I’m no good fox.”

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the Manoir Squad,  
>  **Lauren**  
>  **Pinkie**
> 
> Thank you so much for your support!


End file.
